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During the foregoing occurrences a dead calm prevailed. On a pallet in one corner lay a pale emaciated female. “Marriage certificates don’t tell lies, at any rate,” he said. Near the body, which, it will be surmised, was that of Abraham Mendez, two ruffianly personages were seated, quietly smoking, and bestowing no sort of attention upon the new-comers. Nor did he content himself with declaring his guiltlessness of the crime imputed to him, but began in his turn to menace his captor and accuser, loading the latter with the bitterest upbraidings. "I understand," replied Rowland.
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